


No Day But Today

by fauvistfly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek, M/M, Mentions of Kate - Freeform, Mentions of Major Character Death (in alternate timeline), Smut, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:39:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2185146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauvistfly/pseuds/fauvistfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you don't change it successfully, you'll be doomed to repeat it,” Deaton says, his face impassive despite the seriousness of his words.</p>
<p>“Repeat the day?” Stiles parrots, trying to wrap his head around what they’re attempting to do, the ridiculousness of his life and how it now involves time travel. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>in which things in Beacon Hills are so bad that Deaton sends Stiles back in time to stop Kate from manipulating Derek and causing the death of the Hale family. The catch: Stiles only has 24 hours to change the course of the future, or he’ll be stuck repeating that same day until he gets it right. What will be enough to keep Derek away from Kate?</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Day But Today

**Author's Note:**

> written for [behaveboy](http://behaveboy.tumblr.com/) and the [teen wolf holiday exchange](http://teenwolfholidayexchange.tumblr.com/). prompt asked for time travel and bottom!derek. hope this met your needs!
> 
> massive thanks to [cain](http://bigmaninasuitofarmor.tumblr.com/) who read this in the late hours of the night. promise to bake you cookies and make you korean food. also much love to [sasou](http://inconvenientbastards.tumblr.com/), the loveliest of betas who still reads my fic even whilst packing up her life and moving. kisses and kfood to you as well.

“If you don't change it successfully, you'll be doomed to repeat it,” Deaton says, his face impassive despite the seriousness of his words.

“Repeat the day?” Stiles parrots, trying to wrap his head around what they’re attempting to do, the ridiculousness of his life and how it now involves time travel. He follows Deaton around the room, as if being closer will enable him to understand him more clearly.

“Yes, you'll be stuck in a loop, repeating the same day over and over again until you're able to bring about a change that is strong enough to keep Kate from burning down the Hale house,” Deaton says impatiently, gathering ingredients and stopping long enough to make Stiles step back and give him more space. “Remember that this is before Derek and Kate are intimate, before they’ve even met but just barely. You have only 24 hours each time. You'll get there in the afternoon, after his lacrosse practice, and you’ll have 24 hours from that point on. You have to succeed, Stiles. Beacon Hills needs the Hales to keep this town safe.”

“So I’m your Obi-wan?” Stiles asks, unable to resist. Deaton continues to putter around, gathering jars filled with various herbs, giving him no sign that he’s heard Stiles; of course he has to push. “Deaton? So? Am I your only hope?”

Deaton looks up and gives him a thoroughly unimpressed look, which is enough to make Stiles smirk at getting some kind of reaction from him, even if Deaton refuses to acknowledge the allusion.

“You’ll land in the forest right by the lacrosse field, but your presence shouldn’t seem out of place since you’re not much older than they are and you won’t be there for more than a day.”

Stiles nods, trying to be the good student, even though his thoughts are all over the place. He can’t help but tap his fingers on the counter somewhat frantically.

Deaton barely suppresses a sigh and then says, “Put this pendant around your neck and sit inside the circle.” He hands him a small oval stone mounted on a silver backing, threaded onto a leather necklace. Stiles is about to throw a barrage of questions at Deaton, but Deaton heads him off and starts describing the purpose of the pendant. “This stone will keep you grounded and help you make the right choices. The closer it is to blue, the closer you are to succeeding. If it's red, you're going down the wrong path.”

Stiles loops it over his head and runs a thumb over its currently purple color. “So is this its neutral state, right in the middle?”

“Yes, but it won’t really start changing color until you arrive in the allotted time slot.” Deaton reaches down to make a few minute changes to the arrangement of candles and herbs, essentially ignoring Stiles for the next few moments.

“Don’t worry, Dad. I read your dumb instructions. Stop yelling at me,” he mutters to himself sarcastically. Deaton continues to talk, reminding him of his goals and how the pendant works, but he closes his eyes and lets his voice wash over him. He inhales slowly and starts practicing his breathing, something he’d picked up once he realized his life really wasn’t going to get less stressful. He knows he’s being flippant about Deaton’s preparation, but if he thinks about the gravity of the situation he’ll only bring on a panic attack. He vaguely processes Deaton’s instructions but also starts going through the mental checklist he’d developed in preparation for this spell. He checks his outfit—just jeans and a plain t-shirt that would still work regardless of the year. He repeats the purpose of his mission, to keep Derek from making contact with Kate and thus preventing the shit storm that is constantly on the Beacon Hills forecast. In and out, he breathes slowly, and when his heart finally settles into a peaceful rhythm, he feels himself yanked out of the present.

\--

When Stiles appears at the edge of the lacrosse field, he takes a moment to orient himself. He blinks his eyes into focus and then sees him. Derek is on the field practicing with someone else, but more importantly, Derek is happy. It's after practice so he’s no longer wearing a helmet, and the smile on Derek’s face is breathtaking. Stiles stares, drinking in the sight of a vibrant and carefree Derek, the sun lighting up his face as he zips up and down the field, whipping the ball around. It’s mesmerizing, and when Stiles finally snaps out of the trance, Derek is already heading off the field.

“Derek! Derek,” Stiles calls out, breaking into a trot to catch up with Derek as reaches the parking lot.

Derek turns around and waits, a look of puzzlement on his face. “Yes? Do I know you?”

Stiles stops in front of him and bends over to catch his breath. He holds up a finger to ask for a minute and then finally stands. Breathless, he says, “Derek, look, you don’t know me, but I know you. I know all about you. And—hey, where are you going? Dude, I wasn’t finished.”

Derek calls over his shoulder, “My mom told me not to talk to strangers.” He heads to a dirty blue Honda Civic, and throws his gear into the trunk.

“Really? This is your car?”

“So you don’t know me, but you have no problem insulting me?” Derek turns to give him one last look before getting in, but he’s stopped by the sound of another voice.

“Excuse me, do you think you could help me?”

Derek turns towards the voice, and he puts a polite smile on his face. “Of course. What did you need?”

Stiles looks to see Kate and rolls his eyes. “Oh, come ON, Derek. You won’t talk to me for two seconds but you’ll talk to this psychotic bitch?”

Kate whips towards him, her face momentarily glaring before she puts on an innocent face of self-righteous indignation. “I don’t think I know you well enough for you to call me names,” she says, her voice soft and pouty but her eyes glinting maliciously, like she wants to know what Stiles knows and is willing to torture him to find out.

Derek looks at Stiles in astonishment, and he immediately says to him, “I don’t know who you are or what you want, but I do know that you owe her an apology.”

Stiles gapes at Derek, pointing to her and flailing with annoyance. “Are you kidding me? Do you know who this is? No, I’m not going to apologize to Kate, Kate ARGENT, in case you were wondering why aaaaand you’re walking away. Fuck.”

Stiles takes a moment to breathe. Clearly he needs to be in a better mindset to approach Derek. No antagonizing—it makes him realize how far he’s come with his Derek when he thinks about how quick to shut him down this Derek is. His Derek must have had buckets of patience for his attitude.

He starts walking away from the school, thinking he’ll eventually head down to the Hale house and try again, but he sees Kate and Derek at the side of the road. She’s leaning against the car seductively, and Derek is kneeling so that he can take a closer look at her flat tire.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he mutters under his breath. His eyes widen when he sees Derek turn and give him a dirty look. Stiles tries to give him a look of innocence, but Derek isn’t even looking at him any longer. “Strike two,” he thinks to himself. Stiles contemplates following him from a distance, but he glances down at his pendant and sees that it’s completely black. “Strike three,” he groans, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. He remembers Deaton’s words about the meaning of black.

_“When you see the pendant turn completely black, that essentially means you’ve done irrevocable damage and will just have to sit and wait for the 24 hours to run its course until you can try again. It won’t happen every time; sometimes you’ll just run out of time or just get close but not close enough. But if it’s black, then your only course of action is to sit and think about the decisions you made and what you can do to make better choices the next time around.”_

_“What do you mean ‘when’? What makes you think the stone will turn black on my watch?”_

_Deaton gives him his patented blank look and remains silent._

Stiles sighs loudly. His first try, and the stone is black after what feels like only five minutes. He now has an almost 24-hour timeout where he’s sitting in a corner, thinking about his bad choices. He watches a for a few more minutes, looking at Kate’s body language and how Derek easily changes the tire. They continue to talk, and somehow Derek ends up getting into Kate’s car instead of returning to the parking lot to drive himself home. Stiles shakes his head in disbelief. Not only has he fucked up with Derek, he’s actually pushed Derek into Kate’s arms. He kicks the grass in frustration, only to stub his toe on a rock. Grumbling curses, he turns around and starts walking in the opposite direction. He’s gotta regroup and come up with a better plan. Stiles heads to the lacrosse field and sits on the bleachers, trying to clear his head.

He thinks about how Kate used her sexuality to get to Derek. Her posture and her voice—Kate used all those things to turn Derek’s head and get him completely focused on her. Could Stiles use his sexuality to get Derek’s attention? He’s not particularly experienced in picking up guys, but Derek seems to like aggressive women to a certain degree, based on his history. Maybe he could at least try? He starts running through possible pick-up lines and scenarios. It seems ludicrous, the very idea of seducing Derek to keep Kate from seducing him first, but when he remembers where he came from and how fucked his current timeline is, he sobers up quickly. Stiles reminds himself how important this mission is, how much they have to gain if Stiles is successful.

Back in his timeline, Scott is in some kind of werewolf coma, alive but not conscious: the result of a misguided attempt to save a feral omega from a group of militant hunters. The hunters had increased their policing with the influx of supernatural creatures as a result of the nemeton. Though the pack had done their best to render the nemeton impotent, enough creatures had come to wreak havoc on Beacon Hills to gain the attention of more hunters. This omega had attacked when Scott had tried to talk some sense into him. Derek had run in, doing his best to keep Scott safe. The hunters had arrived shortly after and shot at all three of them without compunction. This last skirmish escalated quickly, a result of simmering tension caused both by Scott’s (sometimes successful, sometimes not) attempts to avoid killing and the hunters’ unwillingness to consider any other possible options. Though Chris had tried to reason with them, his status as a lone hunter who aligned himself too often with the local pack made the new hunters wary of any supposed agreements he set up. As the hunters began antagonizing the supernatural creatures to draw them out of hiding, the battles between the two sides became far more frequent.

Stiles’ father was one of the humans hurt in the crossfire; he luckily survived the gunshots, but the multiple wounds created enough damage to force an early retirement on him, one that wasn’t as generous as it could’ve been since he was off-duty at the time of the wounds. Stiles knows he isn’t directly responsible, that his father would have thrown himself into the fray regardless of the situation once he heard gunshots, but his suffocating guilt rarely leaves him. Most of the pack had survived the numerous battles with negligible wounds, but they were all so tired of the constant weight of war.

Most of them—except Derek. Derek hadn’t survived the wounds from the omega compounded with the hunters’ attack. He’d died unromantically, no cries of a loved one, no arms embracing him with sobs of regret. No, Derek had given his best until he hadn’t anything left to give, and then he fell while the battle around him raged on. Stiles had been so shocked when he’d finally noticed that Derek wasn’t breathing that he could only stare in disbelief before Kira had shoved him out of the way to avoid more bloodshed.

Now, with Derek dead and Scott in a coma and Deaton unsure of how long he’d be out, the remaining pack had decided they needed something more drastic.

To say that Stiles is aware of the mission’s importance is an understatement. Though he himself has been relatively unscathed, the pack is in shambles and is being steadily worn down. If there is a possibility of a better future, of a happier Beacon Hills where the Hales preside as the supernatural lighthouses, he is going to do everything in his power to make it happen. If that means not laughing at his own pick-up lines, so be it.

\---

When the day resets itself, Stiles arrives in the same spot on the edge of the lacrosse field. This time he takes only a few moments to observe Derek on the field, running some drills with someone who is clearly in need of training based on the way the balls fly wildly in all directions. He jogs towards one to pick it up and decides to use it as a way to approach Derek.

Stiles walks slowly as he gives himself a pep talk and also attempts to walk in a sultry manner. Once he gets within talking distance, he swallows slowly and calls out, “Hey, I think I have your ball in my hand.” He forces himself not to wince and licks his lips as he gets closer.

Derek gives him a weird look, like he’s not sure if Stiles is making a joke or coming onto him. Stiles recognizes that look and tries to clarify his intentions. He holds the ball out to Derek and says, “Here you go. It looks like you’re pretty good with your hands.” When he gives him the ball, he makes sure their hands intentionally touch, but Derek immediately backs up to create more space between them. “Um, thanks.” He tosses the ball into his crosse and walks away quickly.

Stiles follows him and tries to talk to him again. “So, I guess practice is over? What are you doing now? Wanna grab some coffee or something?” Stiles tries to keep up, but Derek is clearly using his werewolf speed to get away from Stiles.

“Sorry, gotta get home to study,” Derek says over his shoulder. He doesn’t even look his way again before jumping into his dinky car and driving out of the parking lot.

Stiles yells out after him, “Okay, then! Nice talking to you! Hope to bump into you again soon!” He scrunches his face up in frustration as he continues to walk out into town. He figures he might as well grab a coffee or something and think about how he can justify showing up at Derek’s house without looking like a creepy stalker. The thought makes him smile as he remembers how often Derek randomly showed up at the school. The smiles quickly fades, and he walks into the nearest Starbucks to plan his next move.

The gods must be smiling down on him this time around because after about twenty minutes, Derek walks into the café. Stiles straightens up and can’t help but give Derek a big smile when he catches his attention.

“Hey, wow, what a coincidence. Wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again,” Stiles says, trying to fill his voice with warmth. It’s not hard to pretend he finds Derek attractive; in fact, he’s not pretending at all. It’s just that he’s never gone up to someone and hit on them. It’s always been a long game plan for Stiles, usually a friendship turned lovers or at least friends with benefits, often because Stiles is able to wear them down with his constant presence. He gives Derek an obviously appreciative look and attempts to look like a nice guy who’s not a skeevy pervert. Based on Derek’s look, he’s not sure he’s succeeded. He decides to pretend they’ve never met and reaches out his hand. “I’m Stiles. What’s your name?”

Derek shakes his hand quickly and says, “Derek. Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m just grabbing some coffee and then heading out. Sorry, I’m just not interested in getting to know you better.”

Stiles’ face drops, and he starts fiddling with his pendant, trying not to beg Derek for a chance when he sees how red it is. Maybe Derek prefers the endearing, self-effacing type? Probably not, but Stiles is better at that than the sexual predator. He bites his lip and shrugs. “Yeah, of course. I shouldn’t have bothered you. I mean, yeah. No. I get it. Sorry. I’ll let you get your coffee.” He turns to leave, hoping that Derek will say something, anything.

“No, wait.”

Stiles freezes, not quite able to believe that Derek actually falls for that (kinda sorta) act. He forces himself to turn slowly. “Yeah?” Stiles absentmindedly chews on a nail before reminding himself that sort of thing isn’t attractive.

“Look, it’s not that you’re not attractive or anything,” Derek says, frowning a little at Stiles’ reaction of wide-eyed gaping. “You are—come on, don’t be like that. Of course you are. And it’s not that you’re a guy. I’m just, well, I’m just not in the right place right now. I’m sorry.” Derek reaches out to give Stiles’ shoulder a quick squeeze before picking up his coffee and leaving.

Stiles watches him exit the café, walk to his car, and drive away. He closes his eyes briefly and then makes himself look down at the pendant. It’s black. Shit.

He plops down in one of the plush armchairs and tries to figure out what tack to take next. Clearly Kate must have reined in her seduction because there’s no way Derek would’ve fallen into her arms so quickly, unless Derek was totally lying. The thing is, he seemed really sincere. So Kate must have chipped away at Derek little by little. She must’ve had a long-term plan. This particular day is close to six months before the fire, but maybe Stiles is mistaken in thinking that they spent the entire time prior to the fire actively involved.

Stiles reviews his points on a napkin and a pen he borrows from the barista. Kate had a flat tire, so she appealed to Derek’s Samaritan ways. She pretended to be in need, so Derek felt useful and appreciated. That was her in, and then she must’ve just kept running into him, asking for help in little ways, manipulating his need for acceptance after the whole tragedy with Paige. He still feels sick every time he thinks about Kate and her evil ways, how successful she was in getting close to Derek and then crushing him.

He shakes off that thought and starts to brainstorm ways in which he can ask for Derek’s help. It feels manipulative as well, but Stiles tries to focus on the end result and how much good it will bring. He thinks about what he knows about Derek, his Derek, and the heart he’s seen in every action and decision Derek has made. He keeps those thoughts close to his heart and reminds himself that perhaps, if Stiles can get this right, Derek will still be alive when he gets back.

\---

When Stiles appears for the third time at the edge of the lacrosse field, he looks briefly at Derek, playing carelessly in the sun, and then starts pacing a little as he plans. He knows he needs to manufacture some way in which he needs Derek’s help, but he’s not sure how to make it seem realistic. He’s deep in thought, one hand running through his hair, when he suddenly feels pain searing through his chest. One of the wild lacrosse balls smacks him in the chest, and then the impact makes Stiles trip backwards and hit his head on the ground. He doesn’t black out or anything, but it certainly knocks the wind out of him. He gives himself a few moments to recover and starts rubbing his chest where the ball hit him. When he suddenly sees Derek’s concerned face hovering above him, he can’t help chuckling. Finally something is going his way, finally his spastic clumsiness is working for him instead of against him in embarrassing ways. Derek’s concerned face is now getting even more worried as Stiles’ body starts contracting in silent laughter. Derek places his hands on Stiles’ face and starts feeling around the back of his head for a bump, and slowly the laughter dies away at the warmth of Derek’s hands.

“I’m okay,” he says quietly, a small smile on his face as he takes his own hand and wraps it around Derek’s wrist reassuringly. “I mean, I got hit by a ball and then tripped, but other than that, I’m okay.” He starts to sit up and has to blink away the stars. “Okay, I might need to amend that statement.”

Derek smothers a smirk and then says, “Do you mind if I check where the ball got you?” He motions to Stiles’ shirt.

Stiles looks down at his chest and then realizes that Derek wants him to take his shirt off or at least show his chest. He laughs again at how easily things are coming together for him, and then he grins even more brightly when he sees the warm purple of his pendant, the closest to blue he’s been so far. “I’m Stiles, by the way. I figure if I’m taking my shirt off for you, I should at least introduce myself.”

Derek laughs and sits down on the ground next to him. “Nice to meet you, Stiles. I’m Derek. Now get that shirt off,” he says with a flirtatious raise of an eyebrow.

Stiles throws his head back and laughs, near hysterics at the idea of Derek flirting with him combined with the possibility that he might succeed. Derek must notice the manic edge to his laughter because his smile fades, and he places a hand over his chest, right where he’s starting to bruise.

“Hey, hey, maybe we should just go ahead and get some ice? Is there someone I can call? Or you could just come to my house—I’m not that far,” Derek says gently.

Stiles forces himself to breathe and blinks away the tears so that he can focus on Derek. “What, now you’re taking me back to your place?” he tries, to joke, his voice still a little shaky. “No, there’s no one I can call.” He bites his lip when he thinks about how true that statement is at this particular moment.

Derek reaches for him and hoists him up carefully. “Come on, then. I’ll take care of you, okay?” He keeps a gentle grip on Stiles’ shoulder and leads him out to the parking lot. When they’re finally driving away, Stiles notices Kate on the side of the road, watching them. He grabs his pendant and then strokes the purple stone for reassurance, his chest starting to loosen slightly.

When they come up the long driveway, Stiles can’t help but gasp at the house and how it’s not half burned to the ground. Derek smiles a little and says, “Yeah, we have a pretty big family. We need a lot of space.”

Stiles runs his fingers through his hair a little nervously. “Does that mean I’m about to meet the entire family? I mean, this relationship is moving really fast for me.”

Derek snorts. “Don’t worry. No one is home.” He gets out of the car and waits for Stiles to come around to his side. “My parents and sister are away at this conference, and my younger siblings are all at my uncle’s place for the weekend. I convinced my parents I was old enough to stay at home by myself,” Derek says with a mischievous grin.

Stiles waggles his eyebrows. “I’m not sure if that’s better or worse. No one will hear me scream all the way out here,” he says teasingly.

“Oh, trust me. It’s better. I wouldn’t subject you to meeting my family, and definitely not all at once. They’re a bunch of animals,” Derek says, laughing at his own joke.

Stiles gives him a look and then fondly shakes his head at what he knows has a double meaning. His heart hurts a little, talking easily to this young Derek who seems so lighthearted and trusting. He follows him inside quietly, taking in all the details of the inviting home. Derek has him sit on the couch in the living room and then disappears into the kitchen to get some ice. Stiles takes a moment to look around, the cluttered shelves bursting with books and knickknacks, the walls covered with both posed and candid photos, the lived-in aura of a well-loved home. He breathes in deeply, wondering what he would smell if he were a werewolf. What would contentment smell like, anyway? He shakes the thought from his head when Derek comes back into the room carrying an ice pack and some aspirin. Stiles slips out of his t-shirt and winces at the bruise that’s starting to form on the left side of his chest.

“That looks like it’s going to be a nasty bruise,” Derek says as he sits next to him and holds up the ice pack. “I brought the ice mainly for your chest, but I want to check out the back of your head as well.” He gestures for Stiles to move forward a little bit.

Stiles closes his eyes as Derek’s fingers softly probe the back of his head. When he feels that familiar pull of pain being leeched, he says, “You don’t have to do that. The pain’s not so bad.” Derek’s fingers still immediately, and then Stiles realizes what he’s just admitted to knowing.

“What are you talking about?” Derek asks cautiously, his fingers starting to move again but more slowly.

Stiles considers pretending he’s talking about the light massage but then decides to go with honesty. “You know, the werewolf black vein pain suck thingy. My best friend’s a werewolf, and he does it for me every now and then.”

Derek doesn’t say anything at first, though his fingers keep lightly threading through his hair at the nape of his neck. “Are you sure you don’t want me to? It seems like it could help.”

Stiles shrugs, glad that Derek is continuing to trust him without too much hesitation. “I don’t mind the pain. It keeps things real for me.”

Derek gently moves Stiles back so he can lean into the sofa. “That’s kind of an odd philosophy for a human,” he murmurs as he presses ice to the bruise on his chest, the other hand soothingly rubbing circles on his shoulder.

Stiles doesn’t say anything for a while, biting his nail as he thinks about how to explain himself. “I’ve had some tough times where things got a little hazy for me. Pain keeps me grounded. It was a werewolf who taught me that, so I guess it is a little odd for me as a human.” He remembers Derek’s words and allows himself a soft smile, wondering if he now smells like sorrow or grief. Stiles knows he hasn’t given himself time to grieve, and these quiet moments with a younger Derek remind him of how his Derek’s life was taken too soon.

“Someone in your pack?” Derek asks gently.

Stiles sniffs and tries to blink away the sudden tears unobtrusively. “Yeah. He, uh, he died recently. I’m only in town for today to get some closure, I guess.” He’s about to change the subject and hope Derek won’t ask him any more questions when he finds himself completely wrapped in Derek’s arms. He holds himself stiff at first, unsure how much he’s able to take, but in the end the familiarity of it is too much. He holds on as tightly as possible, their heads buried in each other’s necks, and he lets himself cry the way he hasn’t cried in a long, long time.

When Stiles’ breathing has finally steadied and his heartbeat is no longer hammering in his chest, Derek lets go and settles them into the corner of the couch, bodies still pressed together. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I’ve never experienced something like that, but I’ve been told it’s like losing a limb.”

Stiles inhales deeply and lets it out slowly. “It has been hard, but I’ve been trying to live again. Trying to find joy and peace in the little things.” He closes his eyes briefly and thinks about all the things he wishes he could’ve said to Derek before he died, what he hopes to say to him if he ever succeeds and gets back. He opens his eyes when he feels Derek shift slightly next to him. He starts to move but Derek’s arm keeps him anchored.

“I’m just getting the remote. I thought it might be nice to just veg a little in front of the TV? Escapism at its best?” Derek says lightly as he turns on the TV.

Stiles appreciates the way Derek doesn’t make him talk about his feelings or give him that look of pity. He feels something inside him shift, especially when he notices that the pendant looks even bluer against his chest.

Derek channel surfs until he reaches some kind of mindless comedy, and for a while they just sit in silence, laughing randomly and making sarcastic comments about the hot actors in the movie. Their personalities mesh easily, and their comfortableness with each other is mirrored in the way they’re seated, in each other’s spaces, a hand to a thigh or chest to punctuate a laugh or a snide remark. It’s the best time Stiles has had in a while.

Despite the friendly casualness of their interactions, Stiles is still acutely aware of Derek’s body next to his, and every offhand touch makes his heart skip a little. His pendant has gotten bluer and bluer, and Stiles is feeling pretty confident that he’s going to reach the end of his 24 hours and return to his own timeline, hopefully with a fully conscious Scott and a fully alive Derek. With this positive turn of events, Stiles is no longer making every single decision through the lens of a mission. He’s simply living, enjoying the time with Derek, and if he were in his own timeline, he would definitely be making a move. Would it be selfish? Knowing that he’s disappearing tomorrow, should he steal a night of pleasure? He wonders how much Derek is noticing, whether he’s even interested, whether he’s attracted.

“Is there anywhere you need to be tonight? You mentioned needing to take care of something before leaving tomorrow?” Derek asks, breaking into Stiles’ thoughts.

Stiles shakes his head. “No, I’ve done everything I came to do. Now I’m just passing time, enjoying the company of a new friend before heading out.” He pats Derek’s thigh and gives him a smile.

“Do you need a place to stay tonight? You’re welcome to stay here," Derek offers as he nudges his knee against Stiles’ leg.

Stiles turns his head to look at Derek. “You sure? That would actually be really helpful. I hadn’t really thought things through,” he says sheepishly. “You’re not going to throw a huge party with your parents away? Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen?”

Derek grins sharply. “I mean, aren’t those parties usually contrived to get the hero alone with his love interest? Why go through all that if I’m already at that point?”

Stiles widens his eyes, and he can feel his face flush with embarrassment and pleasure. “Tell me the truth. Did you convince your buddy to smack me in the chest with a ball just to get my shirt off?” Stiles says lightly, despite the racing of his heart. “I gotta say, I hope I’m worth all that planning.”

Derek throws his head back and laughs. His eyes are still crinkled with amusement when he leans forward to give Stiles a quick kiss, a smile still curving his lips. He pulls away slowly but doesn’t move far, his eyes searching Stiles’. “Is this okay?” he murmurs, a touch of nervousness coloring his voice.

Stiles nods and then moves in to kiss Derek again. This time the kiss lingers, and Stiles runs his thumb over Derek’s jaw in the way he’s been imagining for years. Still, he can’t help but draw back a little and say, “Are you okay with this? I mean, I’m leaving tomorrow, and based on just the past few hours you already know I’m a little messed up.” He doesn’t move his hand away Derek’s neck but he does still his fingers, wanting to make sure Derek is fully agreeing to what is essentially going to be a one-night stand.

Derek reaches up to move Stiles’ hand and then clasps it in his own. “Turns out I’m a little messed up, too. I haven’t lost anyone in my pack, but I have lost someone recently. And I’ve had some pretty messy things happen lately as well.” Derek glances away, lost in thought for a few moments. Eventually he looks up and lets his eyes rove over Stiles’ face. He smiles softly and says, “But I’ve really enjoyed hanging out with you. I think we could have a lot of fun tonight, a little bit of our own escapism. I’d be up for watching more TV and eating pizza, but I’d also be up for doing a little more. Because, well, have you ever been with another guy?”

“I’ve kissed another guy but not much more than that,” Stiles says. “I’m assuming you have?”

Derek shakes his head and swallows. “That was actually my first.”

Stiles stares in astonishment. “Wow, I never would have guessed. You seemed really confident and comfortable.”

“I figured if I messed things up, it wouldn’t matter because you’d be gone tomorrow.” Derek shrugs, and the nervous movement is endearing.

“True, yeah. Totally true. But if you were thinking I was the experienced one, I’m not. Don’t get me wrong—I’ve watched a lot of porn,” Stiles says, smiling at the way Derek laughs and relaxes a little bit. “So I have a lot of visual expertise. But not much practical.”

Derek nods, grinning at Stiles and giving his hand a squeeze. “Me, too. So, is there something you’re sort of curious about? It’s not like I had a full-on seduction plan prepared. Since we’re being completely honest here, I’m thinking it might be kinda fun to get our practical experience together?” Derek raises his eyebrows coyly.

Stiles blows out a deep breath, amused. “Wow, I did not see this coming, but I am all for it.”

“So?” Derek asks, his confident air back. “What’s on your list? What have you always wanted to do?”

“Can I blow you?” Stiles blurts out, shocking himself with his bluntness.

Derek snorts and says, “Gee, you didn’t have to think about that one for very long.”

“Hey, fuck you,” he retorts before sticking his tongue out and then moving it around obscenely. “Stop pretending you haven’t thought about my mouth.”

Derek watches intently, and Stiles notices a slight flush on Derek’s ears. “Can’t help it if your mouth is really distracting.” He reaches out to press a thumb against Stiles’ bottom lip, and Stiles flicks his tongue out for a taste. Derek swallows slowly.

Stiles can feel the tension thicken, and he can feel his body start to respond to Derek’s closeness in anticipation. He clears his throat. “What about you? What’s on your sexy to-do list?”

Derek looks down at the way their hands are still joined and then looks over Stiles’ shoulder, like he can’t make eye contact when he makes his request.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Stiles says, taking his hand and cupping Derek’s face, forcing him to look him directly in the eyes. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a night of experimentation for both of us. We can figure things out together, right?”

Derek nods. “Right. Okay.” Derek nods again, as if trying to convince himself. “Okay. Can you fuck me?”

Stiles takes a second to gape in wonder before launching himself at Derek’s lips. “This is a yes, by the way,” Stiles says in between kisses, sucking on Derek’s bottom lip. “Fuck yes I will. You’re going to be the death of me,” he says breathlessly. Stiles climbs into Derek’s lap and begins shamelessly grinding against him. 

Derek laughs at the suddenness of Stiles’ attack, and they start giving each other sloppy, wet kisses in between giggling. There’s a playfulness to their making out that Stiles hasn’t felt in ages, and it makes him want to hold onto the moment forever. Still, he can’t help but deepen each kiss and grip him a little harder with each passing minute; soon their laughter turns into moaning. Every sound that Derek makes goes straight to his dick, and from the feel of things, Derek is reacting in the same way. He starts kissing Derek’s neck and slides to his knees. He makes Derek take off his shirt, and Stiles immediately attacks his abs, licking at the hair that thickens as it gets lower. He bites at the skin and then deftly pulls down his sweats and underwear. Derek gasps at his abrupt nakedness, and Stiles merely looks up coyly before giving his head a lick.

“Fuck. This is so hot,” Derek whimpers as Stiles starts nipping at his inner thighs and giving his cock long licks. “You are so hot, Stiles. God, your mouth,” he bites out.

Stiles hums in agreement and then sucks on Derek’s balls and runs his hands up and down Derek’s hip bones. “I’m pretty sure I’m enjoying this as much as you are,” he says as he flicks his tongue at Derek’s slit and then slowly brings him fully into his mouth. He looks up as he takes him in and then pushes his thumb into Derek’s mouth, who immediately starts sucking. The sensation is fantastic, and Stiles has to press his other hand to his dick to calm himself down. Using the wet thumb, he starts rubbing Derek’s hole as he bobs faster, sucking at the end of each stroke. Derek’s abs are tense, and his groans are getting louder. Stiles adds his other hand to grip his dick, and he starts moaning himself when he feels Derek thrusting up into his mouth. He can feel Derek start to tense up with pleasure, so he presses his thumb in further, feeling the hole open up to him slowly. That new sensation is enough to push Derek over the edge, and Stiles does his best to swallow everything down. He slowly pulls off, smiling at the way Derek whimpers when he gives his head a tiny suck, and then rests his head on Derek’s thighs as he reaches down to pull himself out.

“No, come up here,” Derek says as he makes Stiles sit on his lap again. Derek immediately grips him tightly, and within what feels like seconds, Stiles is spilling between them, panting as he feels his dick twitch with the aftershocks of pleasure.

“Wow,” Stiles says, sliding off of Derek’s lap and sprawling onto the couch, his legs stretched out over Derek’s. “Well, I can now definitely say that I love giving blow jobs.”

Derek giggles and rubs his hands up and down Stiles’ thighs. “Well, I certainly like receiving them. Maybe later we can find out if I like giving them as well.”

“Yeah? Give me a few minutes and we can test that theory,” Stiles slurs, punch drunk from his orgasm.

\--

Eventually they make it up the stairs, the desire to avoid dried come enough to get them moving. They fall onto Derek’s bed with the intention of sleeping for a bit, but a little kissing turns into full-on making out, and soon they’re both ready to go again.

Derek throws him the lube from his night stand and moves to get up on his knees. “Don’t spend a lot of time prepping me. I can take it,” he says over his shoulder.

Stiles is still staring at the ass on display in front of him, and he slowly drags his hand over Derek’s hole, spreading out his cheeks and blowing. “What if I want to take my time?” he asks before giving him a quick lick.

Derek immediately cries out and tenses up. “Later, Stiles. I promise. Right now I just want you to fuck me,” he says, shoving his ass back into Stiles’ face.

“God, you’re so pushy. I fucking love it,” Stiles says as he smacks Derek’s ass. He gets his fingers slicked up and starts rubbing in circles before pressing one finger in. “Tell me if it hurts, okay?”

“Shut up, Stiles,” he moans as he works his hips in tandem with Stiles’ fingers. “Just shut and do it.”

Stiles adds another finger and starts scissoring, enjoying the tightness against his fingers. “Fuck, you’re going to feel fantastic,” Stiles says, thrusting gently before adding another one. “You’re going to swallow me up.”

Derek just starts moving faster, fucking Stiles’ fingers and squeezing. “I’m good, Stiles. I promise. Just get inside me,” he says, his voice breaking when he feels Stiles’s fingers rub against his prostate.

Stiles slowly pulls his fingers out and then rolls on a condom. He grabs more lube and gets his cock slippery and ready. He positions himself at Derek’s entrance and slowly starts pressing in. Derek moves his hand back and tries to get Stiles to press in more quickly, but Stiles refuses to rush it. When he finally bottoms out, they both grunt with pleasure. Stiles wraps one arm around Derek’s waist and starts thrusting, squeezing his ass with every movement. He can feel his voice starting to get hoarse, but the pleasure is so great that he can’t help crying out.

Derek drops to his elbows and buries his face in a pillow, and Stiles uses the shift in position to drape himself over Derek’s back. He starts thrusting faster, and Derek starts chanting, “Fuck.” He reaches down to touch himself, and Stiles adds his own hand to tighten the grip.

“Come on, Derek. Lemme feel you come while I’m inside you,” he murmurs in between wet kisses on his back and shoulder blades.

Derek only moans in response until his entire body tenses up with pleasure. His breath hitches, and he clenches around Stiles, who only lasts a few more moments before giving one last thrust and then shuddering through his own orgasm. He buries his face in Derek’s neck until he can breathe more evenly, giving him tiny kisses as he starts to come down. Eventually he pulls out with a groan, and he flops next to Derek, giving him a small smile. Derek reaches for some tissues and wipes himself down before turning onto his back. He hands Stiles some to get rid of the condom, and then they both fall asleep in a tangle of satisfied, exhausted limbs.

\---

When Stiles wakes up, it’s to the wonderful feeling of Derek’s tongue against his balls. He peels open his eyes squints down at Derek. “Well, good morning,” he says throatily, not quite awake. “This is a lovely alarm.”

“Took you long enough to wake up,” he says, sliding up Stiles’ body and drawing him in for a long, filthy kiss. “It’s like you kept hitting the snooze alarm. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“To do what? It looks like you were enjoying yourself without me,” he says with a smirk, running his hands up and down Derek’s back. “God, you feel good.”

Derek shows him the lube and says, “I bet I know what’ll feel even better.” He grabs another condom and rolls it on. “While you were sleeping, I prepped myself. I wanna ride you.”

That perks up Stiles immediately, and then when Derek sinks onto him and starts rocking, Stiles starts to wonder if he’s still dreaming. Derek is clearly on a mission, judging from the furrow of his eyebrows, so Stiles pulls him down for a kiss to distract him a little. He slows down slightly, and Stiles takes the opportunity to fuck up into his tight hole, his long fingers gripping his hips. They start rolling together, Derek’s dick bobbing between them. Stiles starts to reach for it, but Derek stops him.

“No, don’t,” he says breathlessly, his hips still grinding in circles. “I think I can come without it. I wanna see. Fuck, Stiles, you feel so good.” He sobs out in pleasure when Stiles sits up a little, the new angle allowing Stiles to hit that sweet spot more and more.

Stiles kisses him and bites at his earlobe, but he starts to lose his rhythm when he feels his body getting tighter. “Are you close, Derek? Please say you’re close,” he pants as he mouths at Derek’s morning scruff.

Derek doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes and curling his arms around Stiles’ head, pressing him close. “Oh fuck,” he gasps as he presses down hard and squeezes his thighs before coming all over Stiles’ abs. He breathes shakily, still frozen with bliss.

“You ready?” Stiles says, his voice strained from holding back.

Derek breathes in one last time and then says, “Yeah, I’m good now.”

“Good, because now I’m going to fuck your brains out,” Stiles says as he flips them and start thrusting into him with abandon. He throws one of Derek’s knees over his shoulder and drives hard into him, moaning at the sound of skin slapping against skin. He gives one final thrust and comes with a loud groan. He wipes the sweat from his brow and tries to catch his breath, his heart still racing. Eventually, Stiles eases himself out and then messily wipes himself with a tissue before tying off the condom and tossing it away from the bed. He lowers himself onto Derek’s chest and tries to get his heart rate to come down by listening to Derek’s heartbeat. It’s the feeling of Derek’s fingers threading through his hair that finally relaxes him.

Turning to nuzzle Derek’s chest, Stiles says drowsily, “You’ve ruined me for all other alarm clocks.”

Derek snorts and then tugs slightly at his hair. “Shut up and go back to sleep, Stiles.”

\--

When they eventually make it downstairs, both clad in sweats and nothing else, they eat their granola and fruit (“Granola, Derek? Really?”) with gusto, bickering like an old married couple. It’s so comfortable that Stiles has to remind himself that’s it’s not reality for him.

They take a long shower, bodies sliding against bodies, and emerge pink from the heat and the exertion. Stiles slowly pulls on his clothes, knowing he can’t delay the inevitable. He looks at the clock and realizes it’s almost time for him to disappear. The pendant has been pretty steadily blue, so he’s anxious about what he’ll see when he gets back home. Derek seems to sense the end is near, so he stands up hugs Stiles from the back, nuzzling at the nape of his neck. Stiles turns in his arms and kisses him, slowly and thoroughly, before touching their foreheads together. “I have to go now,” he murmurs, kissing him one last time before pulling away.

Derek smiles fondly. “Pretty great night, though,” he says, pressing a thumb to a dark bruise on Stiles’ neck.

Stiles blushes and nods in agreement. “Definitely can’t complain. And I won’t ever forget.” He reaches in to give Derek another hug, breathing in the smell of them together, before turning to head down the stairs. He opens the door and then pauses. “Hope everything works out for you, Derek,” he says, feeling a little silly but waving anyway as he walks out.

“Yeah, you, too, Stiles,” Derek says, leaning on the doorway. “Take care of yourself and your pack.”

“Always,” he says, before giving him one last smile and heading down the driveway.

\--

When Stiles comes to, he sees Deaton, who gives him a nod and a very small smile. Stiles jumps up, a million questions on his face. “So it worked?” Stiles asks, fairly certain of the answer but still wanting confirmation.

“It did. Nicely done, Stiles. Scott is waiting for you outside, but I wanted to just warn you of a few things that will happen in the next 24 hours.”

Stiles slumps when he hears that number. “What? Another 24 hours? I thought you said it worked?”

Deaton holds up his hand. “It did. It’s not a warning of danger. It’s only that the memories of the alternate timeline will fade in the next 24 hours, to be replaced by the new memories. I know right now it might seem like you’ve missed a large chunk of your life, but by tomorrow you’ll remember it as if you lived it all along. In many ways you did. But for 24 hours you’ll have an overlap of memories, which might get confusing. It’s better not to ask questions about what has happened, so I’ve asked Scott to take you home and keep you there while you make the transition. He thinks you’re just sick with something incredibly infectious, but you need to keep to yourself and allow the process to happen naturally. Can you do that, Stiles?”

Stiles nods. “I can just sleep, right? I’ve had quite a few days.”

“I can see that,” Deaton says pointedly.

Stiles flushes with embarrassment and just barely keeps from slapping his hand over the hickey that is clearly on his neck. He follows Deaton out of the room and starts laughing when he sees Scott wearing a mask over his mouth.

“What? Deaton told me it’s really bad for werewolves,” Scott protests, his voice muffled by the fabric. “Come on, man. Let’s get you home and quarantined before your spread your nasty germs everywhere.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, suppressing the desire to hug the shit out of his best friend, the friend whom he last saw on a makeshift hospital bed, barely breathing. He follows him out and climbs into the car. He’s glad some things are still familiar, like Melissa’s car that they still occasionally shared when Scott’s bike was inconvenient. He takes Deaton’s advice and refrains from asking questions, content to look at Scott’s healthy face and watch the streets go by. Things don’t seem particularly different, and he wonders how his father is doing.

As if reading his thoughts, Scott says, “Your dad is working a double shift. He knows you’re sick, so I told him you’d just call him to check in. The fridge is stocked, so you should be good to go for a few days if necessary. Deaton said you’d know when to call him, so I guess when you feel better he expects you to call? I dunno, man. I hope you understood that because I never ask Deaton questions that I know he won’t answer.”

Stiles laughs and is warmed at the thought that his father isn’t injured and retired, moping and resentful. “Too true. Yeah, I get Deaton’s message,” he says. They pull up to his house and he gets out before leaning over the door. “Thanks, Scott, for being willing to brave my sick, germy presence. See you soon?”

Scott gives him a thumbs up and says, “Definitely. I’ll hit you up on Skype later tonight, okay?” He waves as he drives away.

Stiles watches until the car turns off his street, and then he slowly walks inside. So far he hasn’t noticed anything significantly different, aside from Scott’s and his dad’s health. He supposes that would be enough, but he can’t help but wonder what’s going on with Derek. He trudges up the stairs and resigns himself to another day filled with his own thoughts. He opens the door and is about to flop onto the bed when he sees Derek. He freezes, unsure of what to say. He also can’t stop the barrage of images of Derek naked, riding him, and his entire body flushes in response.

“Didn’t Deaton tell you I was incredibly infectious?” he says with intentional flippancy in an attempt to hide his nerves. “Apparently that includes werewolves.” He shrugs nonchalantly.

Derek stays silent but rushes forward and wraps Stiles in a hug, his scruff tickling his neck. Stiles stays tense for a moment, but when he realizes Derek isn’t letting go for a while, he allows himself to relax. He has no idea what this means, but he breathes in Derek’s familiar scent and lets himself be held.

“Deaton is full of bullshit,” Derek mutters into Stiles’ neck. “I knew it was you when I saw him with that pendant.”

Stiles slowly pulls away to look at Derek when his words register. “What do you mean, you knew? You knew what?”

“Really, Stiles? Are you going to pretend like this when you told me you’d never forget?” Derek asks softly as he presses his thumb against the very spot the other Derek sucked into his skin, and the sensation is familiar. “Because I remember everything.”

Stiles searches Derek’s face, and his heart starts beating rapidly. “Everything? Because that was years ago, Derek, even though it wasn’t years for me.” He bites his lip in confusion. “I don’t even understand how all this works.”

“I don’t either,” Derek confesses quietly. “I don’t know what would have happened, what you changed. All I know is I remember you.”

Stiles wants nothing more than to kiss Derek and pick up where they left off, but he has to know. “Derek, I—Deaton told me everything would be clear in 24 hours. But, I just need to know. Your parents? Your family?”

“Yes, what about them? They’re fine. You just saw Cora the other day when you all got together to study for that exam, and Laura dropped off brownies for you at the station when she heard you were sick. Why?”

Stiles shakes his head and looks down, unable to keep his eyes from tearing up. “I, I just forgot, I guess.” He breathes in deeply, but he looks up when he feels Derek’s hands wipe away the tears. He turns his face into Derek’s palms and draws strength from him. “Derek,” he whispers. He swallows slowly and then leans in for another hug. The image of Derek’s broken and bleeding body is slowly fading, replaced by the body he remembers intimately. “Derek,” he whispers again, rubbing his cheek against Derek’s.

Derek turns his face and kisses him sweetly once, twice, and then opens his mouth to taste him fully. Derek gasps when Stiles licks into him, drawing him closer. It’s different; this Derek is taller, broader, scruffier, but his reaction is the same. Derek nips at his bottom lip and then licks at the same bruise. Stiles whimpers quietly before pulling back again.

“I know—well I don’t know actually—but do you think maybe we could just lie down together? My head is starting to get all jumbled, and not just because you know how to use your tongue.”

Derek huffs in amusement. “Yeah, of course. I didn’t mean to get carried away. I just—I remember your taste.”

Stiles flushes, and then he shoves Derek onto the bed. “God, you can’t say shit like that. I’m trying to figure things out, and I can’t do that if I want to jump you.”

Derek pulls Stiles down onto the bed and then wraps his arms around him. “Sorry. I’ll try to keep my tongue to myself.”

Stiles sniffs and then wiggles his body against Derek’s. “Not permanently. Just, like, for twenty-four hours. And then maybe we can figure out when to hit the rest of the things on my list.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Derek says, resting his chin over Stiles’ shoulder.

“Like how you can fuck me instead?”

Derek groans into the nape of Stiles’ neck. “You are the worst,” he mutters.

“I know, babe. Lemme fix the snarls in my head, and then I can show you how bad I really am.” He pats Derek’s face and then settles into their shared space, a fond smile on his face. “We have all the time in the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> i recognize that there are a few unanswered questions about the changed timeline. let's just say that kate still tried to destroy the hales by letting a feral omega into the preserve and blaming the resulting bitten wolves on them (thank you, cain). she wasn't successful and ended up being killed by that very same omega--thus, scott was still bitten and turned, just not by peter. does that work? who knows...maybe i'll write the changed timeline as a companion piece to this one. 
> 
> thanks for reading! kudos and comments are always welcome. come visit me on [tumblr](http://fauvistfly.tumblr.com)!


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